


Being Told One is a Sinner

by derryderrydown



Series: Iron Boy [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, orgies and decadence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As always, many thanks to Petra for beta/American-check</p>
    </blockquote>





	Being Told One is a Sinner

**Author's Note:**

> As always, many thanks to Petra for beta/American-check

In his first week in LA, Roy drafted approximately eight thousand, nine hundred and seventy-six emails to Tony, and deleted them all unsent.

Finally, after staggering back from a ‘Welcome to UCLA!’ party two hours after he should have gotten out of bed, he managed to type up the contents of his brain and send it.

Later that day, he looked at his sent mail in horror, figured he’d never hear from Tony again and, frankly, he’d be lucky if Tony even kept up with his scholarship.

So, of all the students filing out of Introduction to Engineering Thermodynamics two weeks later, he was probably the most surprised to see Tony Stark leaning against the wall, sunglasses firmly in place.

Standing protectively in front of him was the driver from Arizona, still with the suitcase suit chained to his wrist, and his glower was enough to send even the most starstruck student away without interrupting Tony’s apparent fascination with his shoes.

But the moment Roy approached, Tony looked up. He didn’t smile, didn’t show the slightest hint of what he was thinking. He just said, “You’re coming with me.”

Roy glanced from Tony to the driver and back to Tony, and gave in without argument.

The car was a twin to the Phantom that had been destroyed at Monaco last year, and Roy really wished he was able to enjoy the luxury as he sank into the cream leather seats. “Look,” he said, as the car pulled into the traffic, “about that email.”

Before he could say anything else, Tony said, “Yes, about that email. How drunk were you when you sent it?”

It was an excuse. Sort of. “Um. Very?”

“And how much of it did you mean?”

Oh, shit. Because, okay, he _did_ want to kiss Tony as somebody fucked him; see him streaked with other men’s semen; watch, hear, _feel_ him come apart on another man's cock; see him in every position he’d described in lurid, over-imagined, badly-spelled detail. But Tony was sitting next to him, cool and unapproachable, his Savile Row suit and Gucci sunglasses providing as much armour against the world as any titanium alloy, and Roy couldn’t even work out how to plausibly deny it.

“I’ll take it the silence means 'kind of a lot’,” Tony said.

Roy was blushing so hard it hurt. “I’m never drinking again,” he muttered, staring at his knees.

“That’s a shame. The place we’re going has really good cognac.”

Roy looked up quickly. “What?”

“Come on. You’re supposed to be smart.”

Roy could hardly dare to think it but- “You aren’t mad?”

“Hell, no. I like your imagination.” Tony’s mouth curled into a slow smile. “In fact, I’ve got every intention of taking advantage of it.”

Oh. _Oh._ Roy felt his eyes widening.

"Today." Tony glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. "In fact, in about fifteen minutes."

Involuntarily, Roy glanced down at his ratty jeans and t-shirt so old it was almost transparent. "I'm not dressed for..." For anything but hanging around college, actually.

"Trust me, nobody's going to be looking at your clothes."

Which would have been reassuring if Roy hadn't skipped a shower that morning in favour of hitting the snooze button a few more times.

"Have a glass of champagne and relax," Tony said. He leaned down to open a compartment by his feet and retrieved a chilled bottle that he passed to Roy. _Krug Collection 1928_ , the label read, and Roy had seen enough fake-old for the real-old to look strange.

Tony extracted the cork with a discreet, well-mannered pop and poured out a glass.

"Here," he said, handed it to Roy, and, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, slipped down to kneel on the floor between Roy's legs. He looked up from unbuttoning Roy's jeans to say, "Come on, drink up."

"The driver," Roy hissed.

Tony's smile was mischievous as he said, "Oh, Happy's seen worse."

 _Not with me,_ Roy wanted to say, but he was apparently on his way to a sex club, or orgy, or whatever the hell Tony had planned, so it was probably stupid to complain about _one_ person who could see.

Tony sighed. "Okay, okay. Do the honours, Happy."

"Gladly, Boss," the driver said, and a tinted screen rose between the compartments, at the precise moment that Tony licked up Roy's cock.

"Shit," Roy said, and would have dropped the glass if Tony hadn't taken it from his hand.

Then Tony grinned and Roy had a sudden urge to take a flying leap out of the moving car as Tony took a mouthful of champagne, lowered his head to Roy's cock and-

Oh, _fuck_.

So cold, Tony's tongue blazing hot in comparison. And the bubbles, sparking off his skin, a constant, ever-changing rush, nudging close to pain, that made it difficult to catch his breath, until Tony swallowed and he was left with the smooth, enveloping heat of Tony's mouth, almost comforting in comparison.

Until Tony hummed around his cock, and 'comforting' couldn't have been further from the truth.

He reached out, not to hold Tony's head, just to push his sunglasses up, hell, just to touch him, something to ground the electricity shuddering through him. But Tony intercepted his hand, pushed it back to rest on the leather of the seat, and Roy let his head fall back, gave himself up to hovering so close to orgasm, to being jerked back, again, and again, and again, until his breath was sobbing in his throat and he was shivering under Tony's hands and mouth.

And then he was alone, untouched, and he opened his eyes to find Tony looking at him, sunglasses finally removed.

"Shit," Roy said, and reached out a - fuck, _shaking_ \- hand to stroke the shadows under Tony's eyes. "Have you had _any_ sleep this week?"

Tony breathed out a laugh. " _Not_ what I was expecting you to say. And now I actually feel a little guilty." He cocked his head, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Only a _very_ little, though."

"Hmm?"

Tony was moving, carefully buttoning Roy's jeans over his erection, and sliding up to sit next to him again just as the car slowed to a stop. The door opened under its own power and Tony stepped out, waved to the few paparazzi hanging around, and leaned back in. "That lovely email you sent arrived in the middle of a board meeting. I read it."

As the words sank in, Roy groaned. "I am so sorry."

"I was stuck in that board meeting," Tony continued, "for two hours. _Two. Hours._ Which is exactly how long you're going to be stuck at this art gallery with me."

Roy looked at the building with new eyes. " _Art gallery?_ "

Tony grinned. "Just an exhibition opening. Nothing kinky. No sex at all. Just your best behaviour as a representative of the Iron Man Foundation."

"I hate you," Roy said. "I really, _really_ hate you."

As Roy stepped out of the car, Tony murmured into his ear, "You won't once we get back to my place."

Roy didn't doubt it.


End file.
